Otousan
I could hear him. And I knew he was in pain. But I didn't move. Why should I? He didn't call for me. He was a strong... er... How old was he? I couldn't recall... In fact, he had never told me. I made a mental note to ask come morning. Then I heard it. A high-pitched sob and a whimpered word;
"Help!"
I got up, sliding to the edge of my bed and putting my pegged leg down first. It hadn't been too long ago that I had gotten it yet I was still light on my feet as always. I knew I shouldn't; he had to get used to being alone and helping himself. But I did anyway because I can't stand the sound of his sobs.
I trudged down the hall and into the cabbins where he lie in a bundle of blankets. It was cold out so he was wrapped up like a catterpiller. If only I could have noticed how cute that seemed...
"Hey. Wake up." I barked, ripping the blankets from his tiny, frail form.
He sat bolt upright and stared at me with wide, confused blue irises. His eyes were beautiful, he probably got the feature from his mother. Then again, I would never know. He never talked about his parents, and I never asked.
"O-oh... Chef Zeff..." He muttered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. At least he didn't look or sound scared anymore. He wasn't scared of me and that made me feel... human.
"What are you whining about, Baby Eggplant?" I growled. Baby Eggplant. My er... petname for him, if you will. Not that he liked it. Not like he was SUPPOSED to like it. Not like I cared.
He growled at me. It wasn't very menecing, but I'd take it anyway. "I'm not whining I... I had a bad dream! And..." He broke into a fit of coughing. After a while I sat on the edge of his bed, the heavy dip causing him to slide twards me slightly. I patted his back softly to try and get him to stop. When he was finished I rubbed soothing circles into the small of his back, silently watching his shoulders heave up and down as he panted and gasped for breathe.
"... I think you have a cough..." I muttered once I was sure he was going to be okay.
"Yeah, well..."
"Just stay here and rest. You need it."
"What about work? What about the customers?" He demanded.
I snorted as I stood. I found I missed the warmth of his smaller body snuggled against mine.
"I don't need SICK customers. They'll never come back! I can cook the food on my own for now. You just rest."
"No! I want to help! It's my job, I'm a chef!" He cried, trying to get up.
But I pushed him down again. And, silently, I was glad he was so willing to help. But I knew I was right; sick customers didn't ever come back unless they had a reason to believe they got sick from something, or someone, else.
"Rest. Sleep. You never get time off so if I were you I'd take advantage of it." I growled, leaving the room. But I'd be back, I had to be. And he knew it, too.
I stopped during lunch and managed to make him some soup. I brought a tray to him with the soup, some bread, and a cup of tea. He was asleep when I got there and as I stood in the doorway, watching his chest rise and fall under the blankets, I wondered if this was what it was like being a parent. Having to take care of them when they got sick and check up on them when they have a bad dream... It hadn't appealed to me when I was young and had hopes but now... Now that I was older and I was pretty much alone except for him...
I knocked on the door, which was hanging open anyway.
"I brought some lunch, Baby Eggplant." My voice was still gruff as ever but I made it soft and soothing. He didn't need the stress of being yelled at or he'd never get well.
He sat up groggilly and rubbed at his eyes as I sat the tray down on his lap. "Hmm...? Oh... Arigatou, Zeff-san..."
I froze. Zeff-san? He never said that! He always called me Crap Geezer or... Something that didn't end with 'san' or begin with 'Zeff'.
I resolved it was probably because he was so sick he wasn't thinking straight. I made a mental note to make sure this room was warm enough so that he wouldn't get sick again.
"Just set the tray on the floor when you're finished."
"Alright."
And then I left, going back to work.
Eventually, and surprisingly only after a few days, he got better and was able to go back to work. We had gotten closer in that small amount of time in which he was vulnerable. I was sure he didn't mind the few times I had hugged him. Of course, I had excuses to; he had been coughing and sneezing. And being an ex-pirate I was still very supersticious.
Then Patty and Carne came and we weren't alone anymore. We had to go back to hating eachother, or at least pretending to. We each had reputations to uphold.
But one night, after he had had a bad dream I was sure, he snuck into my room and crawled under the covers, curling up close to me. I didn't move for a few moments but then I wrapped an arm around his back and pulled him close. He sighed in content and snuggled against my chest, quickly falling asleep.
I don't think I'll ever know what he fears at night. Whatever it is, he came to me a lot. Sometimes he would be crying and I would have to hold him a little closer. Sometimes he seemed almost in a trance and I would hold him a little looser. Most of the time he was silent and just walked in, crawled close, and fell asleep.
As he got older the nightmares grew less frequent until eventually he never came at all. I would lie awake for hours, praying that he would come to me.
Then, the night before he had to leave, my door slowly opened and someone snuck in, closing it softly behind them. I sat awake, glaring at the ceiling. By then I had almost forgotten those nights long ago when he would come to me in the dead of night, looking for comfort. I was about to sit up and yell at whomever it was when they crawled under my covers and snuggled close to me.
I was speechless. This was strange yet oddly familiar. I remembered having this happen to me before just not with a body quite so big...
As I got used to the sensation I noticed that where his head was lying it was starting to get wet. I glanced down, breaking our silent agreement not to look at eachother.
There he was, just like when he was small, crying into my chest. Only this time it wasn't because of a dream. It was because of reality. I slipped my arms around him and held him close.
"Hey, Baby Eggplant... Don't cry..." I whispered, wiping his tears away.
He glared at me, that defiant glare that I knew all too well. "Shut up, Crap Geezer. I'm not crying."
"... Sure, you aren't."
And he wasn't, at least not to us.
The next morning, he left. It pained me to see him go but he had a job to do. A job with his new crew.
He cried as we exchanged goodbyes. And before he boarded the small boat he turned back to me and mouthed,
"Goodbye, Otousan. Think of me."
I hesitated before mouthing back,
"I will, always. Good luck, Sochi."
And I do, even now, after seven long years of not seeing him.
But now, tonight, I hear someone sneaking down that hallway again. Gentle footsteps that could be matched by no one else. The door slowly opens and is gently closed again.
Someone approches my bedside and seems to hesitate before slipping beneath the covers and curling up beside me. I wrap my arms around them and smile to myself as I say,
"Welcome home, Sanji... Welcome home, Sochi."
Footnotes:
Otousan means "father".
Sochi is supposed to mean "son".
Once again, this is NOT YAOI/SHONEN-AI! This is just a father/son kind of relationship without the actual being born of the seed thing... Yeah, you get it. Whatever.